I began to regain consciousness gradually, sensing the texture of things around me before my eyes could see them.
There was a strange sensation beneath my back, an exquisite softness I had never known before, as if I were lying on a royal bed specially made for the comfort of emperors.
I inhaled the air; it wasn't heavy with the chill of the cellar or the pungency of disinfectants.
Instead, it was warm, gliding into my lungs smoothly, carried by an overwhelming masculine fragrance that filled the space... a scent that blended the aroma of sandalwood with the mystery of forests.
"Wait... this isn't the cellar, and it isn't that cold medical room... where am I?"
I wondered in an eerie silence.
I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids were heavy, as if they had been cast from lead, refusing to open.
I felt something covering my face—a mask or a device pumping strange air.
I took a large amount of it, a deep breath that rushed into my depths, and immediately, that familiar euphoria began to surge through my limbs.
It was that delicious betrayal; that mysterious substance I had grown accustomed to inhaling during my critical moments.
I felt it occupying my body, reconstructing my dilapidated tissues in an amazing and strange way, as if my cells—which just moments ago were wreckage—were welcoming this airy liquid with a hungry hospitality, as if it were their only nourishment and secret source of life.
The pain began to withdraw from the joints of my bones like a tide receding from a shattered shore, and in its place came a strength flowing quietly through my veins.
I knew for certain that I had returned from the brink of death once again, but the price this time seemed different, and the place that embraced me suggested that Vassilios no longer saw you as just a lab rat, but something more valuable... and more dangerous, Aria.
I surrendered completely to that temptation; the softness of the silk beneath my body enticed every cell in me to abandon its caution, and the relief caused by that restorative serum numbed the remnants of pain in my bones.
After long moments, I felt the warm light of the room piercing through my eyelids, as if gently urging me to return from the absence of consciousness I was in.
I tried for the second time to open my eyes, and finally, my heavy lids responded to my wish.
The darkness dissipated to be replaced by a soft golden light filling the room, and my blurred vision began to clear gradually as if it were a painting being drawn before my eyes.
And as I expected, I was not in that wretched laboratory; instead, I was in a place overflowing with luxury and tranquility.
I scanned the room with my gaze, and there... in a nearby corner, I spotted him.
Vassilios was sitting on a plush leather chair, one leg crossed over the other in a posture that exuded absolute confidence.
He wore thin medical glasses that gave him a strange solemnity, holding a massive book he was reading with deep focus, as if he had been stationed there since eternity, silently guarding my awakening.
I raised my hand slowly; it was still trembling with a slight weakness, and I grabbed the oxygen mask to pull it away from my face.
At that moment, he noticed my movement; he lifted his gaze from his book and aimed it directly at me.
And once he saw the spark of consciousness had returned to my eyes, he closed his book and stood up with a slow, majestic rise from his seat.
He began to approach me with steady steps, his black eyes behind the glass of his spectacles inspecting me with deep and ambiguous looks... looks that had begun to confuse me and shake my resolve.
Damn him! Why does he seem so contradictory?
I asked myself in a confusion that gnawed at my mind: with every passing day that I spend in his orbit, his mystery grows more complex; at times he is the butcher who crushes my cells, and at others, he is the guardian waiting for my awakening with this calmness.
He stopped at the edge of the bed and remained silent for seconds, as if weighing the words before speaking them, while I tried to read what lay behind that mask he wore, prepared for every possibility.
I sat up lightly on that lush mattress, but my muscles did not share my desire to rise; I felt a violent cramp ravaging my limbs. A silent scream of pain erupted from my depths:
"Damn it!"
I closed my eyes tightly, pressing my eyelids until I saw the sparks of anger dancing behind them, and leaned with all my weight against the wooden base of the bed, taking regular and deep breaths in a desperate attempt to calm my soul and mend the fragments of myself.
I raised my gaze toward him slowly, narrowing my red eyes on him as if I were placing his neck under the blade of a knife, and asked in a sharp voice where tones of questioning and threat intertwined:
"What was that, Vassilios? Is there an explanation?"
He sighed lightly, a movement that seemed to me as if he were shifting the burden of a great secret off his shoulders, then averted his piercing gaze from me to place his hand in the pocket of his elegant jacket with a coldness that provoked every cell in my body.
He spoke in his usual calm, mixed with a glacial coolness:
"Regarding that... I never expected that your body would evolve to such a degree. Your absorption of magic, instead of dismantling it as should have happened, devoured everyone's magic, stored it and charged it with greater power, then reflected the attack with double strength toward the source of the magic."
He fell silent for a moment, watching the impact of his poisonous words as they seeped into my ears, giving me space to swallow the bitterness of this truth and enter that complex information into my mind, which had become a battlefield.
He didn't give me a chance to respond, but continued in a more serious tone:
"And since you are at the beginning, and cannot control that, this has serious side effects that threaten your life and your body."
His words echoed in the room like fateful judgments, while I watched him cautiously, realizing that I was no longer just a "void girl," but had transformed into a weapon that didn't even know how to stop destroying itself.
I stared at him, my eyebrows knitted tightly as I tried to absorb this twisted logic he spoke with; every word that left his mouth placed a new stone in the building of his mystery.
I felt that this was the right moment, my only chance to wrest a candid answer from him before he returned to his mask of coldness.
I gestured with my eyes toward the oxygen mask lying beside me and asked in a sharp tone:
"And what is that strange substance?"
He aimed his gaze toward the mask for seconds, then returned to staring at me deeply, as if weighing the amount of truth my mind could handle.
He did not answer while standing, but moved calmly, took the metal chair, and placed it directly in front of me, then sat down to be at my eye level.
He began to explain in a resonant and steady voice:
"Since your body is naturally an insulator of magic and resistant to it, the only energy it responds to is the energy of the black insulator stone... a very rare type of gemstone with immense power. That substance is extracted from it, and it works exactly like Mana for your body; it enhances its strength and repairs its damaged cells, exactly like our healing magic."
As I listened to every letter he uttered, my eyes widened in a surprise mixed with horror; this finally explained that strange feeling of euphoria and addiction that ran through my veins whenever I inhaled that substance.
My "hungry" body wasn't asking for air; it was asking for its own fuel.
Vassilios leaned back on the chair in a comfortable position, rested his cheek on the palm of his hand, then added with a faint smile I couldn't interpret:
"I have good news for you..."
I aimed all my focus toward him, curiosity gnawing at me, so he continued with a coldness that kills the soul:
"You have been officially accepted into the Academy by the High Judges. Since they saw your destructive power, they decided to benefit from you as a 'lethal human weapon'... for wasting a girl with this power that surpasses mages is a great threat and a fatal loss for them. In their view, you are the one who will be able to reduce the number of dead and wounded in their favor."
I was blinking in astonishment as I heard his words, and felt a nausea washing through my chest.
Do they really look at me as a machine programmed to kill?
Am I just a chess piece, a weapon of "flesh and blood" thrown into their dirty wars?
No one asked me if I wanted that; no one cared for my feelings or for me being a human like them.
What is this madness?
They turned the curse of my "void" of magic into a blessing for their interests, and turned my life into just a number in their arsenal of weapons.
Vassilios's features softened slightly as he watched my broken astonishment and the sadness that shrouded my features; his sharp intelligence was enough to make him realize that his words had pierced like blades into my soul.
He added in a calm tone, trying to soften the weight of the truth:
"I know your feelings well... but, this remains better than execution, isn't that right?"
My pupils widened further, and I felt a chill washing through my limbs.
Were they really intending to execute me?
They are monsters in human form!
I swallowed my saliva with extreme difficulty, and wiped my face with my trembling palm, trying to absorb his shocking words and his sudden kindness that came like bitter medicine.
He added, fixing his gaze in my eyes:
"You must prove yourself, Aria... they must recognize you as 'Aria' and not as a human weapon, so work hard."
He stood up with dignity, and before leaving the room, he took out from his pocket a thin gold necklace, centered by a black stone polished with care; it was simple in its design but carried a mysterious aura.
He extended his hand with it toward me, saying:
"Wear it... so you don't hurt anyone. This stone is a safety valve for you; it will prevent you from hurting yourself and those around you, as your surroundings are now teeming with Mana that your body absorbs unconsciously."
He pointed with his hand toward the wooden table in the corner of the room and continued:
"There you will find the official uniforms of the Academy and your daily schedule. Take some rest today, and tomorrow will be your first school day."
He stared at me for a few seconds with a look whose meaning I didn't understand, then prepared to leave, leaving me alone in that spacious room, struggling in the waves of the bitter truth he had cast upon me.
I looked at the necklace in my hand, then at the official uniform arranged on the table, and felt the weight of responsibility and the choke of captivity that wore the mask of "opportunity."
The game has begun now, and I must decide:
Will I be the weapon they want, or the human I aspire to be?